


Redemption calls damnation

by Bebec



Series: Martyrum Sanguis [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Canon Rewrite, Chloe Decker Needs A Hug, F/M, Good versus Evil, Heavy Angst, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Implied/Referenced Torture, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Major Character Injury, Not Beta Read, POV Chloe, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Psychological Torture, Religious Fanaticism, Season/Series 04, Sorry Not Sorry, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: luciferprompts, Two Shot, Vulnerability, Work In Progress, not my first language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebec/pseuds/Bebec
Summary: Time passes always faster, is always 'best', whenever sounds and chaos are at their loudest.Whenever Lucifer's pain is at its loudest.His last moan was low, the clicking of chains unnervingly discreet, as much as his ravaged pants against the floor. His raging breath… flickering bubbles on an extended pool of blood.Him, silent, in pain… is the worst she ever heard.___@Luciferprompts :Father Kingley has kidnapped Lucifer and was using Chloe against him. When they are finally able to save Lucifer, Eve steps up to take care of him and Chloe has to watch as someone else helps Lucifer. (hurt/comfort)Two-shot.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Martyrum Sanguis [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077761
Comments: 19
Kudos: 48





	Redemption calls damnation

**Author's Note:**

> You've waited for it, here it is!  
> Holidays are such a great invention :3 Plenty of time to write for me. Finally! 'Helped me working again on this project that was collecting dust in a corner. This is a sequel to 'Evil calls Evil', which I invite you to read first if you still haven't or if you've forgotten what the first part was all about. (link below)
> 
> I'm planning other parts after this two-shot, all based on prompts from @Luciferprompts (Tumblr) like the part 1, like this one. 
> 
> The entire series won't be dark all the time, but still… most of it will treat Chloe & Lucifer relationship after the first betrayal in S4, Lucifer's trust issues and Chloe's issues about anything related to his devilish side. So… pretty dark, heavy angst in general.  
> (still writing straight in English, not beta-checked yet so forget the spelling mistakes)
> 
> So, that one contains graphic depiction of blood and violence. Looooots of angst.  
> You've been waaaarneeeeeed.
> 
> After all this time… you know I have a thing with 'angst' stuff, right? X)  
> Sorry but not sorry for what you're about to read! 
> 
> I'd place the story still after episode 5, before the sixth of S4.

**GOLDEN POISON**

1

* * *

Silence is the worst. 

Not just complete, unchanging silence. Short, changing but inherently still silence is worse. 

This is worse when she hears a few instead of a lot, when she hears discreet sounds instead of long, loud ones. 

Resounding chaos is the best she can get these days.

Hours?

'Doesn't matter when the silence is at its worst, really. 

Time passes always faster, is always 'best', whenever sounds and chaos are at their loudest. 

Whenever Lucifer's pain is at its loudest.

His last moan was low, the clicking of chains unnervingly discreet, as much as his ravaged pants against the floor. His raging breath… flickering bubbles on an extended pool of blood. 

Him, silent, in pain… is the worst she ever heard. 

'Might be the worst she ever saw, too. 'Worse' is a whole, fucking concept. Kind of invading, tyrannical perception from every damn sense. The smell, the touch - not that it can rely on this one and, even if Chloe would've been able to, she's not sure she'd try to touch Lucifer. He's been touched enough… too much.

Too much. 

There's only the sight and hearing left.

She has her eyes closed since she's back in her cell, so it's not the worst of the 'worse'. The hearing, the silence forcing her to _hear_ so unnoticeable details.… 

Maybe it's Lucifer's worst 'worse' as well. It must be.

She's not talking to him, not anymore.

Not because she doesn't want to, not because she's scared or injured - of course, she isn't. She's not him. 

No, they no longer talk because he doesn't want to, because he is injured, scared - even if he'll never admit it to her or anyone else. He's so good at 'lie-not lie' attitude! So good to endure the worst because he is who he is. 

They no longer talk because there's no use, because he is tired of hearing the worst from her the moment they're left alone, with pain, silence and words instead of agony, noise and screams. Because "I'm sorry", "This is all my fault" are the worst words to say, over and over again. 

They've passed one worse and welcome another.

It's as simple as that. 

She's simply leaning against the bars of her cage, listening to the chained, quiet Devil in pain. The silence wouldn't be what it is that she wouldn't have heard a thing from the distance between them two. She, near the locked door; him, near the big window of the boathouse. There's a boat, a small one to go fishing in front of the window. Her dad had a boat looking quite similar. The green tarp on it is bigger than the boat itself. One of its parts often brushes the ground, often takes a bit of Lucifer's pain, it's soaked with his blood sometimes.

Most of the times.

_Repeating_ times; he was starting shortening his 'times of prayers' since yesterday.

Was it… yesterday?

It's shorter breaks for damn longer sessions of 'redemption', yesterday or not. 

Probably the reason why Lucifer's silence has gotten worse to 'hear'; he had so little time to recover, spent so long time asking 'his worse' to their - _his_ \- torturer. 

Because she. is. fine.

Fine.

An old bruise behind her ear, where he'd knocked her out, sore muscles from when Lucifer had tried to open her cage after freeing himself of his restraints at the other end of the boathouse like it was nothing, from the bars against which she's leaning, eyes shut. She has not much to fear now… now that Lucifer can't even stand on his legs or lift his head from this pool of blood. He won't try anything stupid and neither will she.

She had had enough sparkles running through her limbs the first time to turn off any sparkle of hope within her. 

She's not stupid.

Prayers sucks.

And never last long.

"Good morning, my child."

_I'm not your fucking child._

That's what Chloe would've said if she had still hope, still hope for better than worse. 

She keeps her eyes shut instead, until she hears new, familiar sounds. Keys out of pocket pants, in the latch of her cell, one turn to the right.

And the door opens. 

"Stand up, please."

She could say no. She could try to talk him down from whatever is on his mind - and god… god, she knows whatever it is -, but it will lead to nothing, nothing more than words spilled into deafening silence, around Lucifer's slightly noisy details in the background.

Silence is the worst, as not being able to talk it down.

Silence is the best she can use to fight, not to take parts to his crazy, evil, nauseous game. 

"Detective Decker, please."

She hears movements on Lucifer's side, the known tremor that awakens pain, awakened by a simple word.

Her word.

Because he knows what this means, they both do. 

"D'tc...ve."

Her word is not really one in his mouth, slurred noise tainted with blood below, running between his teeth. She can picture every single drop of his blood joining all the old one on the floor, in his soaked pants and shirt. 

She doesn't even need to open her eyes to picture it. 

Routine is a picture of details; the same nauseous, crazy details of worse evil. 

"Evil can't wait, my child."

She knows he's referring to Lucifer, but she only sees one evil here, through her hearing rather than her sight. Evil isn't discreet, not when you pay attention to details. 

She should have.

She really should have paid attention to the details.

Details were her thing, a job thing… right?

Right.

So much for the _Detective._

So much for everything she heard, saw and said to 'Evil' incarnate. 

_"And since you've traveled all this way to research him… I assume that you agree."_

_"I want you to know that I'm here to help."_

_"You don't need to be the one pulling the trigger to cause evil."_

Damn right she hadn't needed to be the one pulling the knife in and out the Devil's flesh to feel utterly evil. 

_"...-somewhere inside, you know that whatever he may seem… he is dangerous."_

Yes.

Whatever she thought knowing about this man… somewhere inside, she did know, back then… that he was dangerous.

She knew. 

_"There is something you can do."_

And she did nothing. Nothing in time. 

"It's time, Chloe."

Her name in his mouth makes her shiver in disgust. For him, for herself above all. As always, he takes her tremor for fear, for something else, something really… really really wrong. As always, he enters the cell, hiding the keys out of her reach - that's fine, she won't fight… she can't fight Evil, she can't fight anything.

_"You're just stalling, aren't you?"_

Of course.

Of course, she is.

Stalling as much time, as much silence she can get is the least she can do now. Lucifer needs more time, so much time to recover, so much silence to keep fighting. 

He's always been much stronger than her. 

Obviously. 

_"I get it. You're weak."_

Obviously, yes.

Chloe, quietly weak, hears him sigh in front of her, as much judging her strength as any other person, demon, angel and… Devil did judge her so far. God would judge her for this, as he keeps repeating it to her. 

God sees all, hears all. 

She does hear him turn back to the door with another sigh, the fabric stroking floor and bed as he walks towards it. "It appears that you go first, Mr Morningstar." 

_No._

Waves of panic pierce her heart, quicken her breathing as she opens her eyes, widened fear stretched by the hand that's almost tearing Kinley's sleeve now. Nausea rises from her clenched belly to her throat as soon as her fingers encircle his wrist. She'd better touch a corpse than him, she'd better touch anyone, anything but—

Stalling time.

Time.

For Lucifer.

The bitter taste of her weakness, of being his, invades her mouth and constricts her throat as she looks up. She holds Kinley's gaze, touching him just the time that he needs to convince himself of being right about her. He smiles at her and she bites her tongue not to throw up on his shoes. 

"I knew you'd have the strength in you, my child," he congratulates her.

She hasn't. 

But she won't tell him. 

Bastards and fanatics have this thing in common as not listening to any other voice than theirs. Any other desires than their own.

Desire. 

Chloe's fingers twitch around the fabric.

_"What is it that you desire?"_

Desire is the Devil's thing. Desire is his enemy here. 

Ask what's a religious fanatic desire, it's… It's like asking a dehydrated person if he's thirsty! It's twisting the knife in the wound. 

Literally. 

Seriously… couldn't Lucifer have foreseen Kinley's answer, how this desire would make things worse? 

Of course he wanted to cleanse Evil from this world, of course he would cleanse stronger the 'Evil incarnate' at his feet. At least, Lucifer has stopped asking anything about desires. At least, Lucifer - as much eager to tempt his Dad's men as he can be - was no longer tempted to go back to Hell that fast.

Instinctevely, her gaze goes to him for the very first time in hours. Her shivers and the high-pitched sound brushing the lump in her throat are much expected. 

"Fear not, Detective. He won't hurt you," Kinley reassures her as he pulls his arms, her body forwards. 

Again, he's wrong about her, thinks he's right. 

Again the same fanatic bullshit. 

Again….

"N't this a...gain…" Lucifer had whispered through panting breaths and crimson sighs the last time. "S-so… cliché… Kinly-b… boy! Sur'y… an do bet'r, mh?"

Chloe can't look away from Lucifer's back, the shred fabric in so many places along his straight back. He must stay straight, must keep as much pain at bay as he can, as straight as these flaps of skin beneath what's remaining of his shirt. Every time he moves a bit, every time he looks for steady breath when pain strikes harder, deeper… Chloe can see swollen, whiplashed skin crack open beneath dried blood, add further pain to the unbearable amount of it. 

She can hear sobs, tremors and pain in his quick, short breaths; every time they're alone.

Kinley can definitely do better. 

She can't let him think anything else but the lies he keeps repeating to himself.

She does not fear Lucifer, she does fear losing him, she does fear Kinley's resolute quest for the redemption of her lost, tainted soul. 

She does need more time.

So she nods, welcoming the strong shiver rising between her shoulder blades and going down her spine. She gulps, doesn't throw up but stands. 

_Up._

She stands up and welcomes Kinley's arm around her trembling shoulders. She stumbles almost instantly and refrains herself of running straight off his embrace, forward the silence, the incoming noise. Kinley's fingers brush the back of her neck. She bits her bottom lip. So hard that she tastes blood within seconds. 

Just another sense among the others, all plenty filled since… she still can't figure how much time has passed. Sun is low, the sky painted with dark blue and orange lines through the window. Must be late, whichever day is coming to an end, whichever night is about to start. Shadows darken Lucifer's shirt, the blood looks like it stops soaking it, for the shadows to move to his bare feet. They twitch. 

She shivers.

"Have you eaten properly, my child?" 

The hint of care in Kinley's voice… Chloe won't be surprised, nor displeased, to puke on him and thus answer his question. Of course she did. Has she had any other choice? He made him perfectly clear of what would happen to Lucifer if she wouldn't eat anything. Enough happened to Lucifer, she's eaten enough to get sick by just breathing. She nods, her hand up to her trembling lips as she recalls the last time she tried to give her partner some food and water. She can still hear the whiplashes cut through quiet air, slice deep within agonizing, devilish flesh. 

"Good. God would be displeased that you've served Him with an empty stomach."

Is He?

Is He pleased by all this?

If God hadn't judged her yet, she's judging Him. Every single second. What the hell is He waiting for to stop this?

This is His son, goddammit!

Her nails brush her lips when she and Kinley stop. She hadn't noticed they walked that fast. She only notices the dust sticking to her feet soles now. She allows a sob to come out her mouth when she figures why. 

She rubs her foot on her jeans. Blood doesn't look like such on dark jeans. 

"Put the tarp into place."

Kinley's back is facing her. For a second, every time he turned his back to her, she turned her head to the left. The big iron door looks bigger every time, so small when she talks down her hope to run towards it. 

She'd never run fast enough to shut down Lucifer's vulnerability. In her state, she doubts she'll be able to run at all. Kinley would have slit Lucifer's throat long before she'd reach the door anyway. 

That, she knows. 

She knows, she knows, she knows what she must do. Buying more time. 

So she walks. Slowly. She walks right towards the tarp to her right. Her sore back protests when she leans forwards to take the plastic tarp with both hands. Lucifer's grunts get mixed up with the sounds that the fabric makes on the dusty floor. Chloe does her best not to think of what's about to happen if she pulls it too fast, too strongly. 

But she's weak.

For once, it's a good thing.

Takes more time. Buy him some more to prepare himself.

Survive. Until someone stronger than her shows up. 

Maze.

Maze's stronger than anyone. She's a demon, she tracks people, humans. She can track the worst human, can't she? But it's been so long…. 

Chloe grunts and pulls. In physical effort, her mind relapses to 'detective' mode. Kinley knocked her out inside the house of their main suspect. She was about to cuff him, when the pain had exploded behind her ear. She told Ella where she was going. Ella isn't the kind to keep things for herself. Anyway, Kinley couldn't have released their suspect. Did he kill him? Or did he just let him flee so that everyone would think it was him who was responsible for their disappearance? Seems clever. Seems to fit with the time spent here. 

Chloe's fingers shake on the tarp.

There's a chance that Dan finds their suspect and the whole truth behind. If the suspect is willing to speak, if he's still alive, if he hadn't left the country before. So many fucking 'if'. 

Fortunately, she reaches the final spot for the tarp before she starts thinking of Trixie. Unfortunately, she meets Lucifer's gaze as soon as she lets go of the tarp. 

Kinley has turned him over, over his wounded back. 

She wants to cry for him, so that he doesn't seem to feel that pain. It should be painful. His back, it's-- 

She'd never think she'd find his scars were less evil compared to his actual wounds. She'd never think she'd find his Devil face less worse than the one turned to the side, towards her. Gashes cover half of his face, the other covered with blood. He's all red, less red than she can recall. 

_"Could you accept me like this?"_

Exploded veins in his left eye filled it with crimson stains. No hellfire. 

No strength. 

He won't make it till the end of this session. He won't make it at all. 

She _can't_ accept that. 

It can't end like this.

Yet, her mind goes blank as he keeps staring at her, quiet. At peace, somehow. How… 

How can he be at peace in such a horrid place? 

"Very good. Go get the chair, now. I'll manage the rest," Kinley asks her, removing Lucifer's chains around his waist. "Prepare your soul." 

Chloe lets out a sigh once she can look away. Looking at Lucifer, it's like looking at her own reflection. He's vulnerable because of her. He's giving up because of her. She looks at the chair, left right next the door of her cell. Wood. Heavy. 

Once her thoughts of escape passed, she never thought of any other possibilities. What a chair smashed against Kinley's back could do better than running through a door? She has even less strength left to lift the chair high. Even if she knocked him out unconscious, what then? Will he be out of it long enough for her to get his keys, remove these chains from Lucifer's wrists and ankles and--

And _WHAT?!_

He's too heavy! 

She'll never manage to carry him out of here. 

Such plan is destined to fail from the start. 

But Lucifer is--

He can't give up on her. He can't. She can't--

Chloe's gaze goes back on him. Her breath gets stuck in her chest when she notices his slight shake. So discreet movement that she thinks she dreamed it first. But he shakes his head once more, eyes squint shut, jaws clenched. It's more than they ever shared lately, between quiet torture and loud interlude. 

Usually, she looks at a spot near his ear on the ground, every time Kinley hits him. Over and over again. She listens to the blood dripping on the plastic, every time the whip hits skin, meets groans of pain. Higher, louder. No matter Lucifer's efforts to keep quiet. 

Time goes faster this way.

Until Kinley talks to her.

Time comes to a nauseating stop then.

It's stopped. Now. In the wait of another sign from Lucifer. 

She holds back a scream when she sees his head loll to one side then the other, whenever Kinley pulls hard on his restraints to drag him in the middle of the tarp. His sharp tone gets her out of her trance, "The chair, my child." 

She can't move, though. 

She must.

She really can't. Lucifer's chest… it's too _still_ , in all the chaotic movements to place 'Evil' like 'Good' wants it to. Usually, he always struggles a bit. One "Easy on the goods, padre!" here, a "Sorry but pentagrams have five branches, not six-- Oh, my mistake! Just dried blood," there. 

Silence.

Silence is the worst. 

She doesn't even flinch when Kinley's hand grabs her chin like iron. She's not moving, breathing heavily. She breathes in the salt he just poured on each branch of the pentagram. Some must have touched Lucifer's wounds. He should have been moaning by now, moving from one side to the other, either way unable to escape the crystalline burn. She should hear him breathe heavily through his nose pressed against the tarp. 

He should show her signs of life. Of strength. 

Kinley's eyes are two holes of darkness into which she could drown. "I see that Evil gained ground in your soul. That's a shame…." 

He lets go of her, not waiting for an answer. 

She doesn't care. Fanatic bastard. 

She'd crawl on her knees and beg him that it wouldn't make any difference. Chloe watches him pass her without a word, quietly staring back at Lucifer. She holds her breath when her eyes stop at chest level. 

Rise. Fall. 

Rise.

Fall.

Steadily. 

Quiet tears blur her vision. She blinks and sobs, whimpers of both despair and relief, as Lucifer's eyes blink the same. Slow rise and fall of bruised eyelids. He has turned his head to her, has smiled genuinely while Kinley's hand pushes on her right shoulder to make her sit. Tears fall like she does, frozen weakness in both her legs. 

"Eyes down, Satan!" 

The shoe hits Lucifer's left cheek hard. She looks down, anywhere else than towards her partner, who's choking blood and saliva on lips and chin. 

"You have _no_ right to look at your salvation!" 

Lucifer's sputterings sound disdainful, weak. Chloe fears another blow, but Kinley walks towards the table near the iron door instead. She draws in a long breath, her nails scratching the wood of her chair. She bows her head, feeling dizzy. She can't go through another session.

Lucifer can't endure another one. 

"I know it's difficult for you, Chloe," Father Kinley says at her back. "I always have." 

She scoffs. 

_No shit._

He's coming back and she turns her head away from his touch even before his fingers move locks of hair away from her cheek. "I also know that you have the strength in you. What we're doing here-…."

_What_ **_you_ ** _'re doing here._

"... is the best thing for everyone on Earth. Including Lucifer."

Chloe snarls, slight shake of her head, as far away as she can from him. She heard that before. It's like listening to a recorded tape. Do all the fanatics sound the same in the end, when they're stuck for too long with their wrong, dangerous truth? 

She doesn't care about _redemption._ Whatever this man has in mind… it's nothing close to divine. Nothing good. There'll never be enough redemption for hurting a man like that, Devil or not.

Kinley searches through his pockets. Chloe's nails are about to split against wood, or the reverse. The shadow of his extended arm spreads above her head, still bowed, turned away from what he's holding. "This is your chance, Chloe. The chance to do what's best for everyone."

Here it goes again.

It's started.

She can't stop it. She can't take that 'chance', she can't even look at it. She can't think of Lucifer's mouth opened for this, for death. 

_He's gonna die anyway._

Silence is at its highest level that she could swear to hear his heartbeats slow down, one after the other. 

She'll be responsible for his death, either she does this or nothing.

_No, it's Kinley's fault._

She led him to Lucifer in the first place. 

_He suspected Lucifer's true nature long before._

She didn't stop him. Neither in Rome, nor back to LA. Too late. 

_Always._

Always too late to act right. 

Kinley sighs too fast. "Very well." 

Her heart clenches in her chest as soon as she hears Lucifer's whimper. From the corner of her eye, she sees him flinch on the floor, plastic tarp squeaking beneath him. 

Kinley makes one step towards his limp body.

Her lower lip starts to tremble. 

Another step.

She looks through the big window, freezes straight afterwards.

"May the Lord lead my hand--"

"Wait."

Chloe clears her throat, repeating, "Wait." 

Her voice is a low crack in deathly silence, between each stroke of the whip against dust, swaying in Kinley's hand, before Lucifer's face, now turned towards her. It sways on his frown, his parted lips. 

"Chloe, the Lord demands--" Kinley starts, shaking his head, parent scolding a child for bargaining a punishment. 

"I know," she cuts him off. 

She meets Lucifer's puzzled gaze. 

"I'll do it."

Blood drips beneath her nails, deeply digged in her palms, when she hears Lucifer's gasp. His eyes are wide opened, not blank from pain, dehydration or hunger. Clear stare going right through her flesh, cold fire freezing each of her bones, turning her voice stiff as she repeats the words, "I'll do it." 

She turns to Kinley, looking doubtful. She doesn't expect him to believe her just with words. 

Fanatics.

Fanatics need actions.

Actions aren't her strong suit. That's the main reason why they're here, the three of them. Because she acted wrong against Lucifer, because she acted even more wrong according to Kinley. She missed her chance to act for good.

Not her strong suit at all, these days.

But she extends her hand, blocking her tremors with a long, deep breath. "Please… Father Kinley. I-- I've waited too long already."

Silence stretches, tight line ready to tear up with another groan of Lucifer. He groans louder when Kinley places the vial in her open palm. The golden sides are shadowed by the blood still running out of her tiny cuts. 

Golden poison. 

Right. 

She turns the vial in her hand. Once, twice. Her fingers come around the cap. A golden pearl. 

Kinley frowns. "Are you sure, my child? I can read doubts in your eyes."

She nods. She shakes her head. "I'm… will it be enough? T-to… erase… Evil?" 

Kinley smiles. "Evil only looks stronger. Just smokes and mirrors. Fear not, it'll be enough."

She nods once more. 

Lucifer's gone quiet. 

Her gaze stops on her gun, stuck with Kinley's belt around his waist. Given his vulnerability, anything will be enough to erase Lucifer from her life. The whip, another day here, the vial… 

Anything.

The plastic squeaks beneath her knees. Salty blood - Lucifer's blood - starts to soak her jeans. His blood gets mixed with hers, on her hand, on her fingertips. 

His shallow breath brushes them, "Det--"

She shakes her head.

"Ch'oe…" 

Disbelief wrapped around her name, his chest rises and falls on each letter, rapid breaths. Rapid supplication with just a whispered word.

_Her_ name. 

She can't say a word, his name. She can't. There's no other choice here. She's doing what's best for both of them. Survive. His voice doesn't survive to her shaking grip around his chin. Her fingers slip twice on blood but she manages to keep his mouth partly open, even when his eyes shut.

He's not unconscious. His body is tensed, tremors under her hand, glistening red on his torso moving up and down faster within seconds. 

He doesn't want to see her. 

He thinks she's--

"You can do this, Chloe."

She lifts her chin, cold conviction meets burning damnation. 

No. He'd call it… _salvation._

Redemption, for her soul.

She nods.

She can. She can't act otherwise. 

Golden, bloody redemption leans towards the Devil's venom. 

  
  
  
  


**Tbc**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> STOOOOOOOOOOOOOP! (hands raised in the air)  
> (...)  
> Wait the last chapter before even thinking of torturing me, okay? Deal? We're good? (lowers her hands with a suspicious expression) Good? Ooookay!  
> In my defense, told you it was dark stuff going on her-- (see furious glares) OKAY, okay! XDDD I'll write the next and last chap as soon as I can (inspiration, mood and all that). In the meantime, feel free to let a comment, press the 'kudo' button if you liked the story so far. ;)
> 
> It's always highly appreciated.
> 
> See u either with the next chap or the next one for 'I will not say goodbye'.  
> Thanks for reading :3


End file.
